


it's a love song

by evenstar9



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Secret Songbird Gift Exchange 2019, the cycle gets broken with feels for all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:42:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21920062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evenstar9/pseuds/evenstar9
Summary: Orpheus' doubt strikes a chord with Hades in more ways than one - and the Lord of the Underground decides he might not be too happy with the ending after all.
Relationships: Eurydice/Orpheus (Hadestown), Hades/Persephone (Hadestown), Hermes & Orpheus (Hadestown)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 103





	it's a love song

Strangely enough, it wasn’t the poor boy’s success that moved the heart of the Lord of the Underground. No, Orpheus failed, and finished his walk above without his lover behind him. Instead, it was Orpheus’ doubt that won Hades over, in the end. You see, Hades knew what that road felt like, walking the long way round the back to find one’s lover. He’d walked that road once before, before the train was built (the train was mostly for Persephone’s benefit, anyway) and he remembered the way the darkness swallowed him. He remembered the confidence he had at first, and then the way he had approached his lover on bended knee just as the poet had, asking her to come home with him. He had picked one of those old red flowers as he walked toward her in the garden, and held it out to her as his only offering. When Persephone said yes to him, he knew that he’d never be able to love anyone else. If he’d loved her less, she might not hate him now.

  
No, it wasn’t Orpheus’ confidence or success in love that moved Hades. It was his doubt that touched the king’s heart - because no one knew doubt better than the Lord of the Dead whose wife walked among the living. When Orpheus turned, Hades felt a final satisfaction that the young poet had been so predictable. He smiled to himself, as Eurydice fell back into his realm, as his wife waited at the station, and as Orpheus dropped to his knees in despair. The cycle continued, as he had known it would - doubt would always, always come in. He knew the ending, and for a moment he was pleased with himself. This was familiar.

  
He had wanted to teach the boy a lesson: that when you love someone the most and hope for them the most, that’s when you doom yourself to failure. The only problem was that he had been right. Orpheus did fail, and Eurydice was trapped, and Hades, after that brief satisfaction, felt the loss settle in his stomach. Persephone was lost to him, just as he had thought. The only way to keep a woman was to hold her close and make sure she stays just as dead as you are inside.

But, for a moment there, his world had come back to life, and his love had lived with it. The spark had reignited in his wife’s eyes. And now that he knew it would be gone again, he realized how much he wanted it back. He spun towards the end of the dark path, the one that all the workers were sadly returning on and the one that Eurydice would appear from any minute. He stared into the dark, hearing the approaching beat of their footsteps, and saw the young songbird leading the group. When she saw him, her face displayed a mixture of dying hate and resumed resignation. She started to walk towards the workers’ line with the others, ready to begin her life of forgetfulness again, but he reached forward and grabbed her arm.

  
“Come with me,” he rumbled, and she stared at him. He started to pace as quickly as he could in the direction of the station, and the young woman had to trot to keep up.

  
“Where are you taking me?” she asked with confusion, but his pace didn’t slow. He didn’t stop until he saw the splash of green at the station, his wife’s dress flashing in the low light as she swung on her heavy fur coat.

  
“Wait,” he cried, louder than he meant to, and she spun on her heel with wide eyes. When she saw Eurydice, those eyes hardened.

  
“You let him fail,” she accused, and he shook his head.

  
“No, he doubted her. Just like I doubted you.”

  
Persephone looked confused and a little hurt. Eurydice, one arm still clenched in his tight grasp, winced and looked at the Lady of the Underground helplessly. The queen stepped forward, tugged the girl out of her husband’s grasp, and pulled her into an embrace.

Hades saw tears at the corners of both women’s eyes, and steeled himself to face them. “Persephone,” he began, and though his voice was soft the shock of hearing her name spoken by her husband jolted the goddess. She stared at him over Eurydice’s shaking frame.

“I’ll do everything I can. I’ll tell the workers on the line to start taking down the wall. There’s enough stone to build houses and I’ll open your bar year round. I want to make it better here for you - for us. It’ll take time. Wait for me.”

She blinked, and then a soft smile came to her lips as she swiped fruitlessly at her tears. The songbird ducked out of the goddess’s arms.

Persephone swallowed. “You knew about the bar?” she managed, and he choked out a laugh.

“Sometimes I miss the sky too, lover,” he answered honestly, and she laughed too. When he could take his eyes off her, he glanced at the young woman next to them, and he felt the weight on his shoulders again. She looked like her heart had been ripped from her chest, which he supposed it had been, by his own hand.

“The sky,” the songbird whispered, as if she didn’t quite remember it but knew it was important.

His queen turned to the girl. “Orpheus is up there under the sky right now, girl. Whatever you do, don’t forget him, now.”

Eurydice’s already blank eyes drew another tear from the goddess’s eye, and Hades shook his head. He stepped forward, grabbed Eurydice’s hand, and pressed a red flower into it. He could summon them more and more easily now, he noticed.

“There’s no such thing as a ticket out of Hadestown, so this will have to do. Give it to Hermes, he’ll understand. And if he argues, my wife will straighten him out.”

At the sight of the flower, the songbird’s eyes started to clear. “I don’t understand,” she answered, gaze fixed on the petals in her palm.

“Go home to him,” Hades commanded, and he heard his wife suck in a breath at his words.

Eurydice’s head shot up. “But- my contract-“

“I wrote it,” he declared, with something of his old authority. “I can unwrite it.”

The girl’s face lit up. “If it’s true what you say...” she began.

“You’ll be on your way,” he answered, then turned to his wife. “You’ve got a train to catch.”

There was a beat, and the Lady of the Underground merely gazed at him, a little in awe. Then she leapt forward with a grin and kissed him squarely on the lips. Eurydice, behind her, had already boarded the train, but Persephone lingered and Hades held her tightly like he hadn’t in centuries. When they drew apart, it was in spite of themselves. They wore matching smiles, and when Persephone stepped backwards into the train car, Hades’ smile never faded. Instead of the weight of grief on his shoulders, there was only the treasure inside of his chest.

_Wait for me, I’m coming._

Orpheus thought he heard a voice when he was walking out of the Underground, but he knew he must be imagining it. That song, the same one he had sung as he traveled this road the first time, moving towards his love instead of away from her, was merely an echo in his head. Eurydice’s voice was nothing but a memory. When he turned around and saw her there, the knowledge that he had been wrong brought him to his knees. She had asked him to wait for her, to believe that she was coming, and he hadn’t. He had ignored the most desperate plea and looked her in the face as he betrayed her. It broke him.

So when he thought he heard that song again, he didn’t blink. His guilt had not hesitated to make him hear things - always Eurydice’s voice singing to him eagerly, so hopeful to return home. He wished he was in Hadestown instead of above, so he could forget the sound of her laugh and the look of her smile, but instead he kept hearing that refrain. Wait for me. He hadn’t. I’m coming. She wasn’t, anymore.

The voice grew louder and louder and more desperate and hopeful until he thought he might tear his hair out. Her song echoed and echoed in his head, and he uselessly clamped his hands over his ears as if that would shut her out. The sound of Hermes’ two sharp whistle blasts cut through the buzz of his own head, but he didn’t move from his position kneeling by the entrance to Hades. Lady Persephone was arriving, but it made no difference to him any longer. She could bring nothing that mattered. Alcohol, and flowers, maybe, but all remembrances of Eurydice and therefore bitter to him. The song, he barely noticed, had stopped throbbing through his head.

“Aight,” he heard a voice say, lower and sharper than Eurydice’s in his mind. Hermes stood over him once more, assessing his boy just like he had when he first arrived back up top.

“Brother, I want to show you something,” the god announced, and Orpheus looked up wearily.

“Yes, Mister Hermes?”

“C’mon, poor boy. You wanna talk to her?”

The poet’s eyes widened, remembering the first time he had heard those words, and the girl he had met soon after. This time Hermes must mean Persephone, he realized, and his heart sank again. The best he could hope for was news of his lover, if the goddess had seen her before she boarded her train. Perhaps she’d know if Eurydice had made it back Underground alright, anyway. It was, after all, a long road.  
He dragged himself to his feet, and let Hermes lead the way, his silver suit glinting in the fading light of the evening. When they reached the bar, patrons milled about both inside and out, a sure sign that Persephone had brought some life back into the place. In spite of himself, Orpheus smiled.

“Anybody got a match?”

He froze. Surely he was still imagining her voice, speaking the first words he had ever heard her say. He looked at Mister Hermes next to him, to see if he had heard it too, but the old god just winked. Orpheus looked at him for a long moment, unable to think that maybe-  
He stepped through the door, and saw a familiar candle flame, burning once again. This time, Eurydice spoke first, a red carnation in her outstretched hand.

“Come home with me, Orpheus?”

He said yes, and across the bar, a goddess smiled.

_It’s a love song._


End file.
